


&

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-30
Updated: 1999-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 18:02:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11340555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived atThe Basement, which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onThe Basement's collection profile.





	&

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

& by Penny Trillion

Sent: Monday, August 09, 1999 4:22 AM

Title: &  
Author: penny trillion  
Archive: list; others please contact first ()  
Rating: R (no graphic sex, m/m content)  
Pairing: M/Sk  
Notes: Explaining the first time; how love undoes our favorite agent  
Feedback: always makes my day  
Disclaimers: No beta, no excuse, all mistakes will be inscribed in my Permanent Record; words are mine, characters aren't, all hail the great ten-thirteen.

* * *

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&  
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"You got to be crazy, cuz it's too late to be sane."  
     - Robin Williams

Dear Scully -

First the chase scene: a madman with a gun, lot of that going around these days, a former faith healer gone to the other side of the coin. When did this become routine? Skinner looking firm at me, doing that thing with his eyes just in case I wasn't sure he really meant it. Okay, don't scare me to death with a look there, boss man. I heard what you said. I'm not going to do what you said, but I heard it. Don't go in, you said. Do not go in there or he'll have a hostage. 

Of course that makes perfect sense. So basic he shouldn't have to say it. But of course he does have to say it, because he knows I'll weigh the options, consider the situation from all angles, decide the safest, sanest course of action, then go in there anyway. I didn't get to a pittance of a basement office and a nasty nickname by being sane. I worked for it. If I said that out loud, he'd pretend not to want to laugh.

So I went in, and it was a chase scene as usual. Skinner came in after me. All we-don't-leave-our-men-in-there and whatnot. The former faith healer was shot - not by either of us, and not fatally. Sometimes we here at the fine American institution known as the FBI actually manage to avoid wholesale slaughter and explosions in the process of simple things like, say, apprehending a loaf of bread and some milk from the corner store. Not often, but it happens.

I can hear you now. 'No thanks to you, Mulder', you'd say. But you'd smile. And you did say you wanted to know how it all happened - that you just wanted to know the truth. Well, ask a Mulder question, get a Mulder answer.

I'm being flippant about it, yes. I guess I think I've earned the right to be. I was in there, with a gun to my head. With bruises sprouting on my face and body. I've been in there again and again, just like you have. And I was scared, because no matter how often, you always are scared. And I did feel guilty and wretched after, because I remain more human than agent - and I didn't hide those feelings, because I still think it's better to be human. Despite everything. But you know what I mean, Scully. I don't have to explain - not to /you/.

Anyway. The point is, I was fragile, after. You know how I get. And when it was all done - the necessary paperwork, the parade of questions, the final details, at least until tomorrow - he looked at me. I could hardly stand up, but he looked at me. He didn't say a word - he just took hold of my sleeve and led me to his car. I mumbled something about what, why, I can get home - but he just shook his head. Sat me down and buckled me in, like a child. And didn't speak the whole way back to my apartment.

The silence was nice. Silence can be a lot of things...but from him, that night, it was comfort. He knew I couldn't talk yet, so he didn't put me in a position where I had to. He knew there were no real words for what I was feeling, so he didn't pretend he could talk me through it. He just let me have silence. I understood all that at the time, though vaguely. It wasn't until later that I started to wonder when I'd started understanding him so well, or when I started to care to understand.

Somehow we got into my apartment - I think he had to actually take the keys from me and open the door himself. Inside, he shut the door, locked it, and looked at me again.

For a long time. And I looked back. It wasn't /that/ kind of look, not exactly, not yet. Not a passionate look. It was two men letting each other see that they saw each other, /knew/ each other. I don't know if I can describe it...we are raised to keep everyone at arm's length, to hide ourselves in facades of strength - men are, I mean. And when Walter Skinner and I looked at each other, in my living room that night, we were letting each other know that we didn't have to do that anymore. We were coming undone for each other. Does that make sense?

He spoke first. He said, "We made it, Mulder." "I know," I said. "You always feel like you lost anyway," he said. He took a step closer to me. "I know that too," I said. All I could see in the whole world was his eyes. "I can't help it. I get through and then I don't know why I bothered." I was shocking myself, saying that. Half the time I don't even know I think that. But there it was. And he nodded. "You bother," he said, "because you love. You love life, you love the world, you love your job. You love the truth. You love Scully, and - " And. A small word. Three little letters. Funny how I'd always taken it for granted, when right then it was big enough to knock me down. Because I knew the end of the sentence. I knew what followed the and, I'd known for some time. "And," I said. "Yes."

And. And he leaned forward and put his arms around me. And I leaned against him and did the same. And I was crying against his neck - his skin - and his hands moved on my back. Soothing. Comforting, again. Then it was more than that, all at once. I was tasting his skin. He was breathing into my hair. And.

And I pushed my face up, skin against his, stubble on my face seeming painfully real. And he pulled me up, even closer to him, his hands in my hair. And we were kissing, deep and hungry and full of need. 

Too much detail for you, Scully? But you always want to know everything. Still, I think I'll go back and delete this part, edit it a bit. For the sake of certain ands still unspoken between /us/. For now, though, writing it out is helping clear my head. He's sleeping, right now - he's sleeping near me for the third time as I type, and I'm still in a daze about the whole thing. It's insane, of course. Incredibly dangerous. But then, I mentioned about how I never got anything good accomplished by being sane.

We kissed forever, stumbling toward the bed. The one I bought because you said a grown man not owning a damn bed was just silly. His hands - oh, god. Under my jacket, pulling it off. Mine doing similar things. Finally his hands on my body, his /body/ on my body, groaning and reaching and still kissing, I never wanted to stop. And the whole time, in silence, I was finishing his sentence for him. 'And you love me', is what he didn't say. So I said it with my body, with my eyes. And I love you, Walter. And I love you. And.

At some point he said 'We can't, we just can't" and I said "We are" and went back to kissing him. He whispered my name. I didn't mind the sound of it. Not at all. 

"Please," I said. Please make love to me, I meant. Also - please be real, please don't be a dream. And please be crazy with me for a little while. Please let me go on seeing you, Walter. Please let me go on being seen. 

So far, Scully, he's done all those things. Much to my amazement, though not as much, I'm sure, as to yours. 

You're worrying now. I can see you already. And that's probably sensible of you. But also you should be happy for me. For us. For me and him, but also for me and you. I hope you understand that this means a lot - means I don't have to hide from you anymore. Because I have been, my friend. My best friend. Even from you. But I think, from here on in, that I won't have to anymore. He undid all my disguises in a look. Maybe it should have been you. If I'm being honest - then I can say that. But you are less flawed than Walter and I - you're more pure - and your disguises are so very different than mine. 

I don't know how it will all end. Right now, all I can think about is how happy I am that it's finally begun. Maybe that'll be enough. When everything falls apart, maybe it's enough to know that once, everything was whole.

Enough of my rambling. There's your answer. We spent that night with each other, in each other, taking and sharing and being. And the next day we discussed it, decided it couldn't ever happen again, that it was best forgotten - and the next night he was standing at my door, looking at me.

And so Walter is currently displaying his craziness by snoring away in my bed. And you've been proving how nuts you are for years by sticking around. So at least I know I'm in good company in my insanity, yeah? 

I'll see you soon.

\- Mulder 


End file.
